


Water

by beng



Series: 30 Days of Martin Lavellan [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fallow Mire (Dragon Age), Gen, Rain, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28405731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beng/pseuds/beng
Summary: The Fallow Mire must be the wettest place in Thedas.
Series: 30 Days of Martin Lavellan [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080431





	Water

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the [30 Days OC challenge](https://luinquesse.tumblr.com/post/187518711282/30-days-oc-challenge) by luinquesse.

The Fallow Mire must be the wettest place in Thedas. Martin is sure its water saturation level is well above 100%, because it is everywhere: his tent, his boots, his ears, his food. His sister would argue that a bog is not something that _can_ get supersaturated with water, because… something-something about there being surfaces everywhere (his _ears_ ), but what does she know, she’s never been to the Fallow Mire.

Despite all counter-measures, they are constantly drenched to the bone. The protective spells and the waterproofed coats fail under the onslought of rain and more rain. The bread is soggy and quick to mould. Martin is tempted to try walking barefoot, because his boots, for all their sturdiness, begin leaking and chafing sooner or later during the day’s march. But there are dead bodies floating bloated in the water that they often have to wade through, and Martin keeps his boots on.

And yet, amid all this water-logged hellscape of demons and undead, and misguided avvar… Martin sometimes stops, pushes back his dripping hair, closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in the innocence of tiny rain droplets or the secrets of a clammy fog, merry rivulets of water running down his skin, washing away the blood and mud and pretensions of importance.

He walks on calmer, with a quiet smile tugging at his lips. He’s just wet. He’s not enemies with the rain.


End file.
